


With Time

by Nemi_Thine



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Amputation, Community: norsekink, Determinator, Loki is a cockroach, Starvation, Survival, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 18:52:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemi_Thine/pseuds/Nemi_Thine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The muzzle and shackles at the end of Avengers were intended to deny Loki access to his magic- no hand movements to channel it, no voice to speak it.</p><p>In Asgard, it's decided that to remove the threat of Loki ever using his magic again, his lips will be sewn- but then, that might not be enough. So his tongue and vocal chords are removed as well, and so are his hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Once Prince sat alone on the floor of his cell, legs folded, eyes closed, the stumps of his wrists pressed together.

No tongue, no vocal cords, no hands. No one told him that they had been burned.

Unexpected wisdom from fools. He would have known a lie should he hear it. Flesh called to flesh and he felt where the rest of his being was.

Thor said they'd be given back eventually.

Lies of course.

Such idiots.

Loki pressed the stumps of his wrists together.

Blue, blue, blueblueblueblue.

They hated him, he hated himself. There was nothing wrong with this. And though the collar supressed his more extreme shapeshifting abilities, this was still his own

Only the scared tops became blue, just as he willed it. Tiny grains of ice cutting into scars. Runes and shapes and the form of magic.

Idiots. If they wanted him harmless they should have removed his mind and not his tongue.

Still it was difficult, moving the fragment about in small enough shapes. Before it was breath and words and movement that let him do this, the singing of seidr and his cells. Now he all but had to construct the idea of a cell from crude shapes and runes.

He focused. Deep enough to scar for a time, shallow enough to not bleed and give him away.

Idiots.

One day he got it right.

One day the Once Prince disappeared from Heimdall's sight, phased through the door, and made his way to the feasting hall.

Ink and paper stolen alone the way, the runes made with an icy stamp so he did not have to fret about healing. Other things too he put onto the paper, to hide him and his things and help him and more.

Like the Man of Iron and his creations.

He didn't have to focus on the paper beyond powering it, and making sure he kept it on his person, it was actually easier than his old tricks.

Labor complete he formed a blade of ice and breathed through his mouth for the first time in years.

He was famished.

Food did not have the same satisfaction without his tongue, it was also impossibly hard to swollow.

He killed the servants and made his way to his Father's vault.

There a box with all he was.

...Clever idiots. Cruel Thor.

It could not be opened. At least not by him. He was unworthy.

Which of course was why Thor had never helped him by opening it.

Carefully he took into his arms and left Asgard.

In the space between, in the void, on the Tree; Loki walked.

He knew someone else who could open it.

\--

"Hey Cap! Delivery for you! Surprised it got though."

Invisibly the Once King waited for his prize.


	2. Chapter 2

He had been waiting for this.

"The hell? This is sick."

Loki had been waiting. He shoved his right hand stump into the box, hooking it towards him as he launched a well practiced kick.

It was not to strike, rather he hooked his knee around that mortal throat and they went down together, Loki's weight and Loki's muscles threatening to choke the captain as he kneeled on his chest.

Weapons were out and there were shouts. Loki paid them no mind, he had his prize.

He had kept the scars for they were striking. He had kept the strings hanging from his lips as a point--also they were bothersome to pluck out without fingers.

He did not want to reveal his secrets so soon, so he simply uppened the box next to Captain Rogers and bit off the scar tissue of his left arm with his own teeth.

Delicious.

The hand was easy to attach after that, though it spun around on his wrist and tilted this way and that. An amusing trick, maybe he could do something with it.

A deft gesture called one of his knives to his wildly spinning fingertips.

Now the rest.

\--

As Loki slit his own throat all Bruce could think about was that the man who looked more dead than alive was Loki didn't have an adam's apple. Was that his face was a death's head, the skin pulled tight to the bone. Was that he could count the ribs under the tattered clothing. Was that his hips were flared and hollowed and this was as bad as the worst things he saw in India.

But what really struck him was the lack of an adams apple, the throat wasn't merely smooth, it was caved in and--

It should have been prominent on the thin being the god now was, his clothing in rags.

As Loki lifted the mess of red muscle and veins, and whitish cartilage, and flash of hyloid bone, Bruce realized.

_Oh. There it is._

\--

He fellatiated his knife with a pleased moan then dropped it and picked up his tongue instead.

Fingers, how marvelous.

He popped it into his mouth.

"Ah, Mister Stark, Captain. I owe you my thanks, and for that I won't tell Asgard." He teleported, easy as breathing, letting the worthy man up. "But Mister Stark, you owe me a drink, with interest. I'll take a meal instead, hmm? I'm absolutely _famished_."

He smiled at them, grinned, the strings feathered out over his lips and teeth. With his fingers he started plucking them out, drawing them out with soft groans.


End file.
